Letters From No One
by onlyonceinforever
Summary: Ray comes home from a hard day at work to find that not all aspects of his job are bad. Crappy summery. :ONESHOT: NOW REVISED.


**Disclaimer: I don't own ER. I don't own Shane West. And that makes a lot of people very, very happy. **

**A/N: Just randomly had this idea after watching the 5/19 episode of ER and went with it. The Jessica in the fic may or may not be the same Jessica as Ray was with at the party. I haven't really figured that one out yet.**

Ray Barnett kicked the door to his shabby apartment shut with a booted foot. He threw his bag and coat on a nearby chair, shuffled over to the coach, and flopped down onto it. He had just come home from a double shift at the hospital, and wanted nothing more than to sleep for the next week. But, he knew there were other things that had to get done before he could sleep. Bills, for example.

Ray sighed and dragged himself off the comfortable couch to the less-appealing kitchen table, where a stack of envelopes had accumulated over the past few weeks. He had been trying to put this off, just until he had landed a few more gigs, but it couldn't wait any longer. He picked up the stack and began to flip through the envelopes, muttering to himself as he went.

"Bill, bill, bill, bill, junk, bill, bill, bill - wait, what's this?" Ray fingered a small white, relatively plain envelope. It didn't have the markings of any organization that wanted to leech money out of him, nor was it threatening service cancellation. Intrigued - and figuring a bit more procrastination couldn't hurt - Ray ripped open the envelope and removed the paper from inside and began to read.

_Hello. My name is Jessica Carnen. I am 23 years old, and live in Denver, Colorodo. I'm sure you don't remember me, but that doesn't really matter. Two years ago, I came to Country General when I tripped down a flight of stairs at a party and cut open my scalp. You were the one who took care of me, and told me that I wasn't going to die, that everything would be all right. Ya know, looking back, I was pretty stupid. I mean, really, how thick do you have to be to think you're going to die because you're bleeding from a shallow wound on your forehead? I was kinda slow back then. But that's not the point. The point is, you were there and you did everything you could to calm me down and let me know it was all okay. No one's every really showed me that kind of compassion before, and I just wanted to say thanks. That's why I'm writing. To say thank you. Thank you for being there for a complete stranger that I'm sure you couldn't care less about, and for making me feel like somebody did care. I'm sure you won't even read this, or if you do, you'll think I'm just some random crazy who thinks you're a god on Earth and just wants to get in your pants, but that's not the case. But, I will stop wasting you time now; I'm sure you have better things to be doing than reading a letter from some random stranger. So, I just wanted to say, thank you._

_Sincerely, _

_Jessica_

When Ray had finished reading, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. He _did_ remember Jessica. She was one of the few patients that really lodged themselves in Ray's mind, but he wasn't sure why. She hadn't been a hot procedure case, and he hadn't killed her. Her problem had only been a minor head lac, nothing major. So why did her face show up so vividly in his mind?

Ray scoured his memory for the night when she came in. He played through it, recalling the way Jessica had been so worked up over such a little thing, the way he had calmed her down, how grateful she was... That was it. Very few patients were ever as grateful for his help as she had been. She had been so... so happy when Ray told her she was going to be all right. Happy, and relieved. At the time, Ray thought he had finally made a breakthrough, that he actually _could_ be a good doctor. There had been a connection there, and he had forgotten about it for two years. It probably would have been longer, too, if she hadn't written.

Ray flipped the envelope back over, his gaze falling on the hastily scribbled return address. He though for a moment, then came to a desicion. He ripped a clean sheet of paper from a music notebook lying nearby, grabbed a pen, and began to write.

**Ok, so I decided it _is_ the same Jessica. This is kinda my take on how they met. Well, that is, if you don't take into account that she didn't know he was a doctor when they were talking at the party. /sheepish grin/ My bad. Review if you feel like it. **


End file.
